


if the stars in the sky should fall (that falling sun should curse the morning sky)

by sammyspreadyourwings



Series: Ad Astra per Aspera [15]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Angst, Arguments, Blood, Blood and Injury, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fae & Fairies, Fae Magic, Fighting, Full Moon, Full Shift Werewolves, Guilt, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Permanent Injury, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Serious Injuries
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:14:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22793824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sammyspreadyourwings/pseuds/sammyspreadyourwings
Summary: Things are going smoothly, or that's what Brian would hope. John and Roger get into an argument and their lives change forever.
Relationships: John Deacon/Brian May/Roger Taylor
Series: Ad Astra per Aspera [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1308593
Comments: 29
Kudos: 64





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yessssss, we're finally at one of my favorite arcs of the au!!!
> 
> I'm sorry in advance.

The howling wakes him up. Brian sits up and tilts his head. He didn’t know a pack had claimed this territory – he doesn’t remember reading it in any of the pack registrations. A low growl leaves his throat. The pack must be one made up of the “true” lykans.

Roger is going to hate that they can’t close the deal on this place now. The owners too, considering they had been generous enough to let Queen use their grounds to record the We Will Rock You and We Are the Champion videos. He huffs and pulls the pillow over his head, snuffing in irritation.

The bed is empty too.

Not that he is surprised. Roger stormed out to feed, and John demanded time alone after their spat. Brian rolls onto his back when his stomach growls. He had taken off to hide in the bedroom when the fight set off his anxiety. After spending a second to decide if he can go without food, he flings his legs over the side.

It is past moonrise. Their fight had taken place at the start of dinner. Brian closes his eyes, both John and Roger feel like they are kilometers away. He sighs and takes a step towards the door.

“ _Y_ _ou have to stop treating me like I’ll break!”_

_“I’m trying to keep you safe!”_

_“Rog, I got_ cold _not hypothermia!”_

_“It could have gotten that bad!”_

_“I’m an adult, let me be one! You’re my **husband** not my mother!”_

Brian doubles over at the sharp pain in his heart. He splays his hand over his chest, wondering why this spat felt so much worse. John always gets prickly about being seen as “the weak one” and since America (the first time) Roger has always been overprotective.

They have had this fight a hundred times before.

The pain in his heart grows more intense and then focused. John’s blip flares and another stab of pain ricochets around his ribs. He frowns.

Wait.

Brian sniffs. Any trace of John is several hours old. He feels a tug to the south – where John must be.

The howls begin again, and he jumps.

…

!

The woods are to the south!

“Freddie!” He barks.

His voice is rough, and he can already feel his fangs and teeth elongate. Brian knows his ears must be becoming pointed.

The singer is by the piano, singing an unfinished song. Brian feels the wash of emotion and he careens into the room. He whines. John might be in danger, but Freddie needs him too. The singing stops and Brian recoils, shaking his head to clear the magic.

“Brimi, what’s gotten into you?”

Brian looks back to the south tapping his feet restlessly. He whines again, gesturing his head wildly.

“Brian?”

“John,” he forces out, “danger. Get Rog?”

Freddie blinks. Brian turns to the back door. His spine aches and clicks. He feels his shoulders roll forward and his hands crack. Brian springs away, stumbling after a few meters as his back legs knock him to the ground as his hips stop supporting the vertical movement.

The back door is shut, but it uses a handle instead of a knob and it doesn’t latch properly. Brian is grateful for that. He can hear Freddie call after him, but his nose is trained on where he feels John is. The woods blur as his stride eats the distance. By the time he is a kilometer in, his human brain has been shoved to the back.

This pack must wander. The woods smell of wolf but not of territory. He leaps over debris, letting his heart guide him and trusting his natural instincts to keep him upright.

When the wolf scent thickens, he slows down. Brian pulls back his lips at the scent of blood. John’s rainy since is nearly blotted out by the iron tang. Brian slips on the wet leaves as he skids to a stop.

There is a fae nearby.

Brian snaps his jaws at the lykan jumping out behind him. He needs to find John. The lykan flicks his ears up and then back, revealing their own teeth. He responds to the challenge by lifting his head and raising his tail.

John groans.

His head whips around, forgetting about his opponent and bolting towards his mate. He charges through the underbrush. Brian only stops because he slams into another lykan. They roll away and jump back to their feet jumping at him. Their mouth is stained with blood.

Brian keeps his eyes on the silver lykan as he steps between them and John. If it weren’t for the wet breaths, Brian would think John is dead.

The challenger crouches, yellowing and stained teeth glinting in the moonlight. Brian’s hackles raise and, he flicks his tail up higher and releases an aggressive bark. It makes the other lykan jump at him. Brian throws himself in the way, body checking them once more.

They roll in the ground rising up on their hind legs and snapping at each other’s face and tender spots. The silver lykan grabs hold of his shoulder and yanks Brian to the ground. Brian uses his slightly taller stature to push the lykan into a tree, snapping at the other when they try to stand.

He barely dodges the second lykan when it comes at his heel. Brian tumbles and stands back up, shaking his head to dislodge the snow. This isn’t the same lykan from before. Brian can make out three separate wolf scents through the olfaction noise.

The silver one recovers and jumps to his throat. Brian backpedals and steps on something soft – something other than snow. Turning to see what it is would be fatal. He keeps his tail out and ears back. Low growls echo around the space. He hears the approach of a third. When the silver lykan steps forward he snaps his jaws.

The pair backs up, and he stomps his paw snarling loudly.

The second lykan, large and white – once more with red staining their muzzle – lifts their head and sniffs. Brian growls, dropping lower to the ground but not out of submission. They step back but one gestures to the ground behind him. Brian hugs and takes a step forward. The lykan only repeats the action.

Taking a risk, he cranes his head to peer behind him to the soft spot.

John moans weakly.

Brian whines, all aggression seeping from him.

The white lykan presses against the silver one, who relaxes and takes a step back. Brian snorts and they both take another step back. The third lykan – the one that he ran into the woods – jumps in between them. They brush against both of the other two, and Brian realizes that he is dealing with a pack of females.

Brian drops his hackles as the newcomer urges her pack into the tree line. The leader – Brian assumes – gives him a brief nod and he watches her golden tail vanish as well. He doesn’t move for several minutes after they’ve gone, swiveling his ears and sniffing in case they circle around.

It seems like the pack has left him alone for the time being.

He spins around when John moans. Brian is careful to keep from stepping on him and licks at his face. John’s eyes flutter, the wolf-scent and blood-scent cover his rainy one. He whimpers and shoves his nose against John’s cheek (something he knows John hates).

When John’s head falls limply to the ground, Brian rears back and releases a sharp whine. He repeats the action, his breathing becoming more rapid. He shifts side to side, crossing his legs and looking around for someone to help.

He could howl. Roger should be able to hear him. Come to the aid of the pack, but if there is something else lurking in the woods Brian doesn’t know how much he wants to telegraph their location.

Brian licks his face before trying to move the torn and ruined clothes covering his chest. Each gash hurts him, but at the same time fills him with relief. It looks like John has been mauled but the alternatives are much worse. Brian gently tugs a strip of John’s jumper from his arm only to be met with a circular looking wound.

He licks at it, trying to clean the dirt and blood from it. It still oozes blood quickly, but not fast enough to hide what it looks like.

John has been bitten.

_No. No. No._

A twig snaps followed by loud crunching in the snow. Brian spins around, his nose is filled with the floral bouquet of a nature fae. It smells like Jasmine. He is about to investigate the threat when John starts screaming.

Brian kicks up snow as he jumps to put his paws on John’s chest. The bassist is convulsing and scratching as his chest, pulling the gashes wider. He tries to keep his mate still, but John breaks through his grasp as though Brian is a puppy

The snow crunching nears, before stopping. Brian huffs through the overwhelming perfume. He must stand on John to stop his convulsing as best he can and looks to the fae. The fae, as they all do, looks kind. His eyes are filled with sympathy and Brian can’t see any mischief.

He looks down at John who screams again and knocks his head into a stone. Brian finds himself shifting before he can think it through. His bones clicking and rubbing together. Exhaustion rolls through him. The winter air sends goose pimples across his torso, and he rips off what’s left of his pants to shove the fabric against John’s injuries.

He also tosses the stone away.

“Oh. You’re one of those kinds,” the fae says.

Brian growls as though he hadn’t left his wolf form.

“Has he been bitten?”

Brian forces his vocal cords to resemble human ones. This fae is his only ally here, and maybe John’s only hope.

“Yes. But it might have been during the – when they were fully shifted.”

The fae steps nearer and Brian tries to puff himself up.

“I can heal him. I’m a nature fae. You know we can heal.”

That is what they’ve always been told. Brian can’t see what advantage this fae would get from lying to him. If he tries to actively harm John – well Brian hopes that the fae knows enough about lykans to know how bad of an idea that is going to be. He gets off from where he was kneeling on John’s chest, his knees are tacky with blood, and kneels above John’s head, pulling it onto his thighs.

The snow makes him shiver.

“Before you approach,” Brian says slowly, “what’s your name?”

The fae smiles.

“A _true_ name,” Brian demands.

“I usually go by Jim.”

Brian bites his bottom lip before leaning away to give Jim space to work. Jim gives him a tiny nod before he crouches next to John. He keeps his hands in Brian’s line of sight, pulling his shirt further away from the wounds.

Now that he can process them with his human brain, he can see how bad of a way John is in. The gashes aren’t deep, but they’re numerous, and there are a few that he is sure have nicked something important judging by how much blood there is. Roger would be able to tell.

Gods. He will have to tell Roger.

Jim lifts the bitten arm, examining it by rotating it slowly. Brian peers at it, but he still can’t tell for certain. The angle makes him think that the arm had been against the back teeth, which means that the lykan had been partially shifted.

What lykan _bites_ a human without being fully shifted? What lykan bites a human without consent at all?

No. Brian has to believe that they had been fully shifted when whichever one it was had attacked. It had to have been the white or silver one. Their golden pack matriarch must not have had any control. Brian rumbles and Jim looks up alarmed.

“No, not you,” Brian shakes his head.

Hesitantly, Jim resumes his examination. Brian sniffs. He doesn’t smell Roger or Freddie and he doesn’t smell John despite him only being a meter in front of him. The entire area is full of wolf-scent. Brian flushes, he must have marked this place as his territory.

Sweet honeysuckle burst through the heavy musk. Brian relaxes and watches as a few brave plants begin to poke through the snow. Jim’s hands are covered with vines, and smearing a paste over John’s injuries, almost resembling the smell aloe. Brian is happy to remove the scent of the female wolves.

John thrashes and screams against his thighs. His eyes flicker open and Brian swears he sees a shimmer of gold. They’re gone before he can confirm and he looks to Jim, baring his teeth, which once more are becoming more canine-like.

“Why is he getting worse?”

“Because his fae magic is fighting with mine,” Jim says, “why didn’t you tell me he was fae!”

Brian stares.

“You didn’t know?”

He shakes his head. John never – not once. John swore to them that he was a human. Except that Brian has never run into a human that smells like rain. He stares and watches John’s body convulse. His hands kink up like they’re trying to become paws, but the wolf-scent doesn’t thicken.

Jim swears.

“Can you? What’s happening?”

“He’s got your curse.”

Brian sobs. He bends down and nuzzles against John. Never has he encountered a forcibly turned lykan. They always have a chip on their shoulder – Brian understands that – but he doesn’t know how John will react.

“But it’s fighting with his fae blood. The curse isn’t strong enough.”

“Not from Turned Ones,” Brian mumbles.

“What happens if the…curse doesn’t take hold?”

Brian stares at Jim and whimpers. He presses his forehead against John’s.

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head. There has to be a way.

“John,” he calls.

The groan lets him know that John is at least partially conscious. It must also mean that he is in ridiculous pain. Brian sniffles and nudges against his face. He listens as John’s heart beats at a frantic pace but it’s irregular and sounds more like it will give out.

“You aren’t a Turned One.”

Brian barks at Jim, his voice is rough, “I can’t!”

“You can’t?”

“No! He is my mate! I can’t harm him!”

“But you said yourself he’ll die.”

Brian shrinks back. It’s true. John _will_ die. The fae blood and the lykan blood are warring inside of him.

Jim hums, “he must be less than half-fae if the curse can even take route.”

He shakes his head. What does it matter how much fae blood John has? He doesn’t have enough of the bite to make a difference. The curse will destroy his cells.

“What about vampirism?”

“No. The two will destroy his immune system.”

Jim stares, “it looks like it’s trying.”

Brian glances at John’s chest. The bleeding has stopped, but the wounds remain open, and the bite is still bleeding at an impressive rate. Jim is right. The bite _is_ trying.

Except John isn’t strong enough to endure an incorrect turn – if it’s even possible.

“Your mate will die,” Jim says.

“I know! Shut it!” He shouts.

He feels guilty that he made Jim flinch but someone else reminding him of John’s impending mortality. Brian wipes his arm across his eyes. He hadn’t noticed the tears, but they’re streaming down his face, He lifts both hands to scrub at them, realizing too late how filthy his hands are. They are covered in blood.

John convulses. His muscles tighten, and Brian barely has enough presence to turn him to his side so that he won’t choke on his tongue. His eyes linger on the bite. He can smell the bite burning out. The rainy scent is also fading.

Can he truly sit here and let John die?

Can he _bite_ John?

The shaking stops and John falls limp. His warm breath tickles Brian’s thighs, but that’s the only sign of life. Brian feels how quickly his skin is cooling, and the seizure forced blood to resume flowing from the gashes. Brian closes his eyes.

He lets his nails and fangs grow longer, his ears pointing and allowing just enough of his humanity to slip to the back of his head. Brian _can’t_ do this. He can’t bite his mate.

He can’t let John die.

“What do I do?”

His own voice doesn’t sound human and he shudders. This is the fate he is considering giving to John? A life where people don’t consider him human enough to give rights to? The fear that a hunter may just drag him into an alley never to be seen again. Another statistic that only lykans care about.

John isn’t agreeing to this. Most lykans would let him die.

Brian sobs.

He presses his face into John’s neck. The pulse there feels sluggish and weak. His mind fills with John from this morning, hiding his hands in Brian’s coat to warm them up, before stealing Roger’s scarf and complaining about Freddie getting the gloves.

Their bed would never feel too full again.

His teeth are sinking into John’s throat before he even realizes that he has done so. John’s breath hitches, but the wolf-scent grows thicker.

“Oh.”

Brian pulls away from the mark. It scars almost automatically, and it’s too high on John’s throat to ever be properly hidden. He reaches over to the injured arm and replaces the mishappened bitemark with his own.

The wound seals.

The wolf-scent grows thicker.

He wipes the blood away from his mouth and tilts his head. John shakes and twists, but this time Brian can see his body moving in the proper shifting ways. His nails thicken and take on points.

John’s eyes flicker open and they’re golden before they close and he continues to writhe on the ground. Brian watches in morbid fascination as the human’s frame shrinks. His back arches out and his hips and shoulders push to the front. His wrist tightens before sagging.

Gentle features turn animalistic. John’s face lengthens until it becomes a muzzle, and his fangs poke from underneath the skin. Shaggy brown hair takes over his entire body. Brian closes his eyes and presses his palms to his face.

He can’t watch this anymore. Brian knows this pain well and he can’t imagine how confusing this must be for John. His first shift should have been prepared for and it should have been longer than the three hours it will be.

When he finally gathers the strength to look at his sin, he is knocked breathless. All of the emotions that were buried because his mates weren’t lykans surface. John’s blip becomes a second presence in his head.

They had completed their mating bond.

John is the prettiest wolf he had ever seen. His hair is longer than normal and it is a lighter shade of brown than Brian’s. He will blend into the leaves come fall, considering the red that is flecked through his coat. He has a spot of white above his eyes a stark marking compared to the dark gray fur that rings around it.

His face is broken up by a white muzzle, and a stripe of white that branches into his “eyebrows.”

Brian bites on his tongue. How can he admire what he has done?

John’s scars aren’t fully healed. His coat his broken up by soft pink flesh, especially around the bites on his leg and neck.

“Is there… is there a safe place we can regroup?” Brian whispers.

He doesn’t know that he can bring John back to the mansion. It must be several kilometers away. Brian knows he needs time to prep Roger and Freddie too.

“We can go to mine. I’ll call whoever you need me to.”

Brian nods and lifts John’s body into his arms. The fur is soft and tickles the skin of his chest.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a hot minute but please enjoy!

Brian keeps John held tight against his chest. The fae’s magic surrounds them. It stings at his nose and brushes against his skin. Parts of John’s night is filtering through their bond. He can see the golden lykan biting him, but it doesn’t seem hurried or frenzied. John still wouldn’t have known or was too weak to fight back.

John’s pain and confusion tighten around his throat like a noose and he watches each step Jim takes. Brian shakes his head from the cobwebs of John’s memory. Their bond heightened by two of them being lykans now, he has to smother his joy.

He sniffs and the magic covers any smell there would be in the world. Brian tries to huff through it, but even John’s scent is smothered by it.

Flowers light the path, a luminescent bloom forcing its way out of the frost, lighting the path with dim gold long enough for them to pass before sinking back into the ground. This part of the forest feels old. There is no wonder why a fae would dwell here or why a pack of ‘True’ Lykans would claim here.

He wouldn’t be surprised to find a shrine to the She-Wolf. Brian steps faster, bring John’s body closer to him. The fur tickles his skin, soft and he is warm. Warming to a proper lykan temperature. The thought makes him gag and he stumbles into a tree to steady himself.

Jim turns around and comes nearer. Brian can see that he isn’t displaying anything but concern. He lets out a soft warning bark, and Jim approaches slower.

“You need your back tended to,” Jim says, “are you dizzy?”

His back aches, especially with the weight of John in his arms. He can feel where the blood is sticking to the remains of his shirt, and where dirt has been rubbed in. If he doesn’t get an infection, it will be a small miracle. An infection would, however, be a small payment for the sin he committed. He would pay a much higher one if he must.

Brian knows he might, once Roger and Freddie find out.

“I am fine,” he whispers, “continue.”

Jim steps away and Brian forces himself away from the tree. His legs are growing heavy with led and he can feel the chill more clearly on his fingertips and his stomach churn uneasily, but the blood loss will not stop him from pressing forward. John must be gotten to a safe place before he can rest.

“Nearly there.”

The rest of the walk is in silence. He is grateful that Jim seems to understand that is what he needs. Brian does not know what he could say to the fae. Thank you seems too little, but he _is_ grateful. He wishes that he could trust the fae.

Wind chimes ring faintly. Brian growls. Jim raises his hand and taps once on the air. It begins to sparkle, and like curtains being drawn, it is pulled apart. They step through and Brian blinks. The underside of the trees glow with emerald light. He shakes his head as the magic burns his nose. It’s loamy and hot.

As he steps further into the tiny clearing and rears back when he steps on something spongey. He looks down to see that the pathway has turned from an old hunting track to mushroom cobblestones of purple and golds and reds and whites.

A vine curls down from a tree and he snaps his jaw as it tries to near John. It flicks him, annoyed, but recedes into the willow. He snorts, satisfied that the vine has learned its lesson. Jim has kept walking, and Brian shuffles quickly after him trying to not overbalance on the bouncy mushrooms.

Fred and Roger would love these.

Turning the corner reveals a cottage. Two floors with a thatched roof covered in wildflowers and moss instead of hay. White-flowered vines crawl up the sides. His nose is overwhelmed by the smell of _ancient._ Brian hadn’t thought there were faes that lived like this, it felt too much like saying lykans slept on straw mattresses.

“Upstairs, and on the left,” Jim says.

Brian startles, having forgotten about their unexpected savior, “what?”

“There’s a room you can use,” Jim continues, “ah, who do you want me to call? I’ll have to go into town, not much for phones out here.”

He stares. Brian doesn’t exactly like the idea of being alone in a cottage this old with John heavily injured and likely curing his name. Being away from strangers, he will be grateful for. Jim hasn’t deceived him yet. He rattles off Miami’s number. The mansion they were staying at doesn’t have their phone lines connected and he doesn’t have any other way of contacting Freddie or Roger.

Miami can deal with this at least. Prepare the others for something that they won’t understand but will rightfully hate Brian for.

“Sorry for the trouble,” he murmurs.

“No trouble,” Jim says, “I’m offering.”

Brian nods. They could have just left him and John in the forest to stumble about. Maybe not even stumbling. Brian doesn’t know that he would have made the choice if it weren’t for Jim. He doesn’t know that it would have been a better choice, to leave John to die. Turning him makes his life difficult, but Brian reminds himself that at least he has a life. Even if he is turned against his will.

He climbs the stairs on wobbling legs as Jim waves him up them. His back is screaming now and the churning in his stomach is getting much rougher. Once at the top of the stairs, he leans back against the wall. Grimacing at the pain radiating from the injuries. He pushes off and stumbles the last few meters into the room.

Brian delicately places John on the bed. His injuries are sealed and turning white. Fur will likely not be able to grow there properly, if at all. For a moment, his eyes linger on the bite on John’s throat before he adjusts his head on top of the pillows. He leans down and inhales John’s wolf-scent. The rainy scent that he used too is completely muffled. His natural scent is heavy.

“I’m off, then.”

The door closes after Jim’s call and Brian takes this opportunity to patrol the floor. There is another room, filled with vials of dried flowers. He assumes this is Jim’s workroom and closes the door. There is nothing else on the floor but a window. It can’t lock, but the shutters are closed and latched.

Brian returns to the room. John hasn’t changed, and his breathing is even, as though he is asleep but not unconscious. Their room has a single window and an attached washroom. He closes the shudders and locks the window for slinking into the washroom.

The washroom is small. A standing shower and sink and a mirror. Brian steps inside to examine the mirror, it looks hand-carved and roughly done. He runs his finger along the rim, pulling back when he gets a splinter. Brian tugs it out and finally, he looks at himself.

There are dark circles under his eyes, not that it’s unusual, and he is pale. His lips melt into his face and finally, he realizes the tears in his back might be worst than he thought. Brian misses being able to heal, and he turns enough to look at his back. There are circular impressions, deep in his skin probably to the bone.

He reaches up and grabs the towel and rips the rest of the shirt off and wraps it around his torso. It is soft against his back and it smells clean. Brian shuffles back to the main room, he isn’t surprised to see that John is still asleep – but it is odd. He doesn’t know much about those who have the bite and he doesn’t know how it works on the night of a full moon.

Slowly he climbs into the bed and lays along John’s back. He feels the urge to shift and wrap around John, but he doesn’t know that John would appreciate it. Their language would be lost to him. Brian breathes through his nose and tries to keep himself from shifting. He lays staring at the other wall.

What had he done? The bite was needed to save John, and it could have just as easily killed him. Lykans turning him against the will is going to be stuck in his mind as the first thing that happens when he wakes up. Brian doesn’t know _how_ to deal with that. The only threats he has ever encountered have come from humans and hunters. He doesn’t know how to be afraid of another Lykan.

And now he is indebted to a fae that he doesn’t know and is currently hiding out in his house. Brian huffs and rolls onto his feet, tossing the stained towel to the ground and tugging off the rest of his ruined clothing before stretching out on the floor. Slowly he feels his bones click and grind together despite the heavy exhaustion in his body.

At least in this form, he won’t have to think about such complicated things.

He closes his eyes. His shoulders rub together and he can feel the tear in his skin tear open wider as his back arches and his shoulders change form. Aches lance through his body, from areas he didn’t know had been injured. A cramp seizes through his leg and he whimpers quietly.

Hands erupt into flame as they shrink into paws. He covers his muzzle with one large paw before letting out a huff.

Brian’s entire body shakes with the effort of turning a second time, in a state with much less adrenaline but he knows that this form is easier on his body. There must be a reason behind why deeply injured lykans can’t shift into their human form.

Why lykans die in this form.

* * *

Freddie stares at the spot Brian had vanished from hours ago. He didn’t understand Brian’s panicked flight but he knows Brian enough to know that it wouldn’t have been done without a reason. Roger might know.

He has been trying to figure out how to get ahold of Roger since Brian charged out.

He taps his fingers on the counter before pouring another shot. The vodka burns as he downs it and the warmth spreads from his core, but it does nothing to fill the pit gnawing at his heart.

Their life his about to change. He feels it in the way the window blows, the way their music’s feeling has been altered. Freddie can’t help but think that he imagines that the optimism felt in their first album has been trampled by something.

Freddie can’t explain it, the music is an extension of him, and he can feel it in ways that other people can only dream of. Half the time he wonders if Brian ever got ahold of that letter he made Miami burn. It had been hidden in the fold of the newspapers shortly after they came back from America.

He shakes his head. America had been a dark spot, but once Brian regained his strength and they went to Ridge Farm their luck had changed. Now, Freddie feels as though he is standing on the precipice of writing Bohemian Rhapsody again but this time the fall is far less pleasant.

There is a knock on the door. Freddie jumps and tosses the shot glass to the ground. He grimaces and nudges the shards away from the door, afraid that Brian is going to come skidding in and cut his paws. He wants to answer the door but he finds he can’t move further than the kitchen.

He closes his eyes. Human cops coming to tell him that they’ve found John’s body or Hunters tossing in a personal artifact they found on Brian like a sick trophy. Freddie shakes his head. Brian assured them that there aren’t any hunters in this area. Most have taken to the big cities rather than trek through a forest.

That is a lykan’s domain after all. Next to the Wild Fae and dryads. Freddie closes his hands into a fist and takes in a deep breath. They knock on the door again and he steps towards it. The are feels like he is in a dream. It feels like his limbs are disconnected from his body. That he is watching everything for a spot on the wall.

Freddie unlatches the lock and swings the door open.

Roger is standing on the porch hunched over, eyes bright in the moonlight and stains around his mouth. He doesn’t look drunk, but Freddie crosses his arms. There is an untamed flicker to his eyes. Unsettled.

“Sorry,” he says quietly, “forgot the spare key.”

Roger rubs the back of his neck. Freddie nods and drops his arms to his hips.

“Uh. Is John back?”

“No. And Brian ran after him.”

Roger looks up eyes wide and the tips of his fangs just poking past his top lip.

“What?”

“I don’t know,” Freddie says, “he just ran off.”

Roger suddenly pushes him into the house but only so that he can block the doorway. Freddie clears his throat, he peers around Roger’s form that’s now braced in the doorway.

He has never seen this man before, but Freddie can feel the magic around him. It’s old and strangely it reminds of how John feels when someone manages to crawl under his skin far enough. Freddie tilts his head, the man is chubby and bundled up in clothes that look homemade and no proper defense to the weather.

“Who are you?” Roger barks, followed quickly by, “go away.”

“I can’t do both,” the man replies.

He speaks with a thick Irish accent. Freddie pushes Roger’s arm from the door frame and steps out next to him. There is a pull from this man that Freddie is entirely sure has nothing to do with his magic. It takes him a second, and a flicker of green from behind the man before he can confirm his belief.

“You’re fae,” Freddie says.

Which earns him a push behind Roger again. He hears the sharp click of teeth and can see where his hand is ripping the wood from the frame. The fae hasn’t done anything yet. Freddie places a hand on Roger’s shoulder.

“Relax,” he says.

The lines in Roger’s form loosen and he earns himself a look filled with acid. Freddie tosses the bangs out of his face before ducking under the arm again.

“What brings you here?” Freddie asks.

He weaves the magic into his voice, it scrapes slightly with disuse. It is rare that he uses such a strong compulsion. Manipulating emotions work well enough for him after all.

“I’m looking for friends of Brian?”

“Well, he knows us,” Freddie replies lightly,

Roger shoots him a look and Freddie takes another step closer to the stranger. He hears Rogers annoyed grumble, and then something cold on the back of his neck before it trails down to his hand.

He squeezes Roger’s hand.

“I know where Brian and John are,” he says, “if you’ll follow me.”

“Why didn’t they come?” Roger asks.

Freddie blinks. Roger has never sounded that cold. Not even when he wanted to rip the hunter’s head from their body for hurting Brian.

“They can’t,” the man clears his throat, “I’m Jim, by the way.”

He moves the name around his mouth as if tasting it. Something in the back of his mind prickles.

“Why can’t they? What have you done to them?”

“Only given a place to rest,” Jim replies, “they had an unfriendly encounter in the forest.”

“With what?” Roger asks.

Jim has kept walking nearer. Freddie stares, wondering how they failed to notice his approach. Roger pulls him into his side, apparently noticing the same thing. He can feel a soft buzz of anger and anxiety from the vampire.

“Roger, calm down,” Freddie tries again.

“I don’t know how much I need to tell you, and how much Brian should tell on his own.”

_Not much,_ Freddie thinks.

Brian would rather die than be an inconvenience to them.

“I found them both injured, offered them my house, and I came to notify you. They’re both in bad shape.”

Roger eyes him.

“I know your Brian is a lykan, but I don’t understand how he can still be so heavily wounded.”

Freddie glances at him. Jim isn’t making it up then. If he knows about Brian’s healing factor condition. Brian had said John was in danger. The logical conclusion would be that Brian was defending him and Jim is only being a good samaritan.

“Roger, we should trust him.”

He feels Roger’s hand tighten in his, “just like that? Fred… he’s….”

_Wild Fae._ Freddie finishes the statement in his head. He knows what they say about the fae, tricksters are the kindness he has heard from them. The few encounters he had with them as children never led him to believe that they were evil.

Freddie leans against Roger, “I know we can trust him. I feel it, darling.”

“Then I’m going to trust you, Fred. I need to see them.”

He swipes his thumb along Roger’s knuckles before turning back to Jim.

“Take us to them.”

“The fastest way would be the path in your backyard.”

“How’d you find us?” Roger asks.

As Jim passes them Roger pulls Freddie behind him.

“I followed Brian’s path, I thought the front would be a nicer way to introduce myself.”

“Brian’s path?”

“Lykans are filled with nature energy. It wasn’t hard to follow.”

Roger clicks his jaw and Freddie shakes his head. There is no use for them if Roger gets upset at the only person who seems to know where Brian and John are. Besides, the longer he stares at Jim the more curious he finds himself.

_Now._ A voice in the back of his head tells him.

Freddie shakes it away. Right now he needs to be there for his boys. Jim easily winds through their manor. Roger keeps huffing and tightening his hand into a fist, it hurts Freddie’s hand.

“It’s okay Rog.”

“It isn’t,” he replies, “Brian is upset about something, and not like he usually is, he feels… broken? And John… he is muted.”

He raises a brow, “your bond thing?”

“Yeah. That’s why I came back. I thought Brian and John had gotten into it.”

Roger is quiet for a moment, “I hadn’t thought John would still be gone. He accuses me of overreacting….”

“You treat him like a child sometimes,” Freddie says mildly, “he is an adult, a human adult.”

He watches Roger run his hand through his hair, “I know that.”

Freddie bites his cheek. Getting in the middle of that is a sure headache. He loves them all, but that sore spot isn’t going to go away. The only way for it to go away is if John was no longer human. Brian won’t bite him and he knows Roger won’t do it for a decade yet.

“ _He has to live his human life. I won’t take that from him.”_

Roger had still been so certain John would want to leave, even with Brian’s proposal and marriage. Freddie sucks on his lips, it seems with the more certain that Brian got about their relationship and it’s longevity the less sure Roger became.

“Watch your step then,” Jim calls out once they reach the tree line.

“I’ll be watching yours,” Freddie purrs.

He flicks his eyes away at the last minute. Cursing his lack of control and such a terrible line regardless of the time and place. Roger raises an eyebrow and drops his hand.

“Best if only one of us goes down,” Roger quips.

Freddie sticks his tongue out.

“Or if you want to bring Jim down with you.”

He rolls his eyes at Roger’s grumpiness and takes the first step into the forest. It’s dark and cold. Freddie wonders why he hadn’t thought to bring a coat with him. Something creeps in this forest’s air.

Roger’s leather coat drapes across his shoulders. He grips the fabric before sliding his arms through the silk lining. Freddie frowns as Roger is left with nothing but a thin button up. The cold shouldn’t affect the vampire, but he feels guilt.

“This way.”

Jim walks with the confidence of a man who has walked this path many times before. As he walks, Freddie is surprised about the blossoms springing up behind him. They light the path enough to add surety to his foot, highlighting the worst of the hazards.

Roger coughs, “Brian.”

Freddie looks to the ground and sees in between the human footprints he sees large pawprints. They’re sloppy and show skids, in some places, it looks as though Brian walked back over himself. He narrows his eyes.

“There’s a second set.”

“More than one I wager,” Roger frowns, “it’s like they were trying to cover their tracks.”

“Brian seemed to know where to go.”

Jim clears his throat, “lykan packs move through here frequently.”

“John must have run into one,” Roger whispers, his voice his tight and strained, “that’s why Brian ran after him and why they’re both hurt.”

“Lykans don’t attack humans,” Freddie crosses his arms.

“Most don’t,” Roger shakes his head.

“He is right, there was a fight,” Jim tilts his head, “it’s best we hurry to my place.”

Freddie keeps his eyes on Jim as they walk. He doesn’t want to dwell on Brian getting into a fight with another lykan. A lykan that has seemingly betrayed everything that he stood for.

“There were five,” Roger says after some time, “at least one group and an individual.”

Roger opens his mouth to continue his statement when he gags. His hand flying up to his nose and the other trying to steady him on the tree.

“I thought I would have gone far enough,” Jim says.

Freddie ignores him and reaches out to his friend who brushes off the contact to rush away from the path Jim was leading them down. He follows after Roger – if there are aggressive lykans in the forest – he hears Jim yelling for them before his footsteps begin to crunch the snow as well. Times like this he wishes that he had Brian’s senses or even Roger’s.

He stumbles and flings his arm to catch himself, which he grabs onto Roger’s shoulder. Roger manages to steady him, but it seems entirely on reflex because his grip is bruising and when he looks up Roger is not looking at him. Freddie follows his gaze and frowns. The snow looks like a mess. There are gouges and bare spots, branches from the trees lay broken.

It is strange that Roger would stop here until he sees a bare spot. Most of the snow had melted, as though someone had been lying there, but now he can see places where the snow has melted in drops. Freddie sniffs but he can only smell the scent of the forest.

“Roger?”

He thinks he knows what the answer will be.

“Blood. A lot of it. From different individuals. One more concentrated than the others. It smells familiar,” Roger stops and inhales loudly, “John?”

Freddie looks around, expecting their bassist to appear.

Jim’s hand comes down on his shoulder. There are sparks of something beyond surprise and Freddie turns to him. Jim’s lips are pressed together, and his eyebrows furrowed.

“I had wanted to lead you around this place. I didn’t think vampires had such a strong sense of smell.”

Freddie hadn’t thought so either. They weren’t downwind of this place and had to be a good distance away. The blood was saturated to, likely diluted from the snow. It must be a bond thing.

Roger is shaking his head, as though coming back from someplace far away.

“You need to explain things for us, Jim.”

He steps away from Roger, his irises ringing in purple.

“I wanted Brian to be the one to explain. I only came for the last bit of it. I don’t know what happened, but Brian was fighting with the other lykans, and John was already hurt.”

Jim sighs, “what happened is Brian’s truth to tell you, but keep an open mind it was for the best.”

Freddie feels his heart twist. The whole that was filling with the idea of finding John and Brian collapses he presses his hand against his stomach.

“Just take us there,” Roger says.

He sounds tired. Freddie shakes his head; he sounds his age.

Jim sends him a look and he gestures towards the forest. They begin the trek again, Roger sending a look behind them to the clearing.

“He is injured, not dead,” Freddie speaks quietly.

Roger shoves his hands into his pants pockets, “yeah. I – yeah.”

“Brian found him, it’ll be okay.”

He watches as Roger shakes his head and looks to the sky. The trees hide most of the sky, but a few patches of stars can be seen, those that are far enough away from the moon that is. Freddie stares up at it and ignores the feeling in his stomach. He should be more focused, John is alive and Brian is with him. It is the safest place for John to be at the moment.

Jim stops walking after several minutes. Roger crashes into him, and Freddie just tugs on his shirt to stop whatever tirade is on the tip of his tongue. Jim taps once on the air and the magic unfolds to reveal a hidden clearing.

Freddie raises a brow, it’s old magic. The kind he would see protect the groves back home. Jim isn’t an ordinary Wild Fae, either. He can’t sense any others nearby or within the protected circle.

“Are the others out?”

“No, I – well I moved out here with my gran and when she passed, I never went back.”

“I see,” Freddie nods.

It isn’t hard to guess the family history from that statement. Someone wanting to preserve the old ways. Freddie knows it well because that’s what his father had recited to him went he kept daring to go into the human cities. He can’t think of a way his life would have been what he wanted had he stayed though.

“Brian should be upstairs,” Jim tilts his head to Roger.

The blond shoves past them and hurries into the house. Jim watches him go with sad eyes.

“Something is changing isn’t it?” Freddie asks softly.

“I imagine it already has for you,” Jim replies.

Freddie clears his throat and enters the house. Roger had left the door wide open and tracked snow several meters into the house. He climbs the steps, only to see Roger banging on a door.

“Brian, let me in please.”

Freddie hears the grunt of a wolf but otherwise the room remains silent.

“He is shifted?”

Roger glances to him, both fangs pressing into his lips before going back to banging on the door.

“I don’t want to break it open,” Roger steps back, “I don’t know what is going on in his head.”

Freddie tilts his head as Roger slides down the front of the door. He brings his knees up and he rests his forehead against them. Roger looks small and Freddie sits next to him and wraps an arm around him. It takes only a second but Roger wraps around him and practically crawls into his lap. He is shaking.

“Shh, we’ll figure it out.”

They don’t know what happened to John or Brian, but Freddie knows how his chest feels and he has a few good guesses. Roger is smart too and probably has already jumped to conclusions.

Jim clears his throat. Roger contents himself with burying his face further in Freddie’s shirt, which leaves him to look at their host.

“I made up a room downstairs for you,” he says quietly, “I’ll be on the couch.”

Freddie shakes his head, “no, don’t worry about us. We’ll be here I imagine. Once we’re let inside, then we’ll have a bed.”

Jim looks doubtful and glances at the door.

“Please, Jim. I’d hate to appear ungrateful.”

“Well, the kitchen and bathroom are downstairs as well, there are extra blankets in the closet, but I’ll leave some on the couch.”

“Thank you.”

Freddie watches Jim as he walks back down the steps. Roger’s fangs are gently scraping his shoulder and he rolls it in a warning.

There is a soft rap against the door, Roger shifting in his lap.

“Brian, please, let me in.”

No response.

Freddie rubs a hand down his back.

“Give it some time,” Freddie coos, “breathe Roggie.”

That earns him a slight chuckle, “doesn’t help much.”

“Can’t hurt then,” Freddie replies and leans more heavily against the door.

He is sure once Brian catches Roger’s scent and voice; whatever instincts have been riled up will calm and they can get in and make sure that the pair of them are okay. Then they can get answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, the boys are still in the dark, but admittedly less so.  
> Brian isn't Handling things well.   
> But the morning is the reckoning.  
> Freddie finally met Jim (give them more time dammit). So that's fun!  
> As always, leave your thoughts and comments below or come talk to me on Tumblr!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An update! Incredible!

John swats at the branches as he stumbles through the woods. The snow creaks under his boots and he shivers as he continues walking. Stupid Roger and his stupid overprotective nature. He sneezes, regretting that he left his scarf back in the mansion.

It’s Roger’s fault. If he hadn’t kept needling him about the cold, then John wouldn’t have deliberately left his scarf in the mansion to prove a point. He huffs and shoves his hands deeper in his coat pockets.

The wind howls and the trees groan under the weight of snow.

Maybe he shouldn’t have wandered into the forest.

He kicks at the ground and cusses when his toes collide with a stone. John bends down to grab his foot and he leans his back against a tree.

“Ow,” John hisses.

There is rustling in the underbrush, John pauses. Panting and rustling. He rolls his eyes and sighs.

“Shove off, Brian,” he says, “I know it isn’t your month to turn.”

There is a low growl. He looks up, Brian usually wanders up to him when he has been acknowledged. He squints, the leaves rustle and he drops his foot.

“Brian?”

Another growl. It doesn’t sound like a usual growl, in fact, it sounds like when Brian is mid-shift. He pushes off the tree.

“Brian,” he calls wincing when his voice cracks, “this isn’t funny.”

The rustling grows more intense and he is knocked back into the tree. He feels something in his back tear – and he doesn’t know that it is a muscle or bone – but there is burning around his throat. John stares into the bright blue eyes – and when the light catches them they reflect green – and half-human face of the lykan in front of him.

He places his foot between them and kicks. It pushes the Lykan away, but he keeps hold on John. His claws are digging into his shoulder before he gets tossed to the ground.

John scrambles to get up, warm blood leaking down from his shoulder. The lykan turns towards him baring his teeth, he tries to remember what Brian always does whenever he wants to calm down an argument. Bearing his throat seems like a very bad idea. He groans as the lykan shoves him back into the ground, the claws tear easily through his skin.

He sobs and tries to curl up.

“Brian,” he gasps, “Roger. _Anyone_ please.”

The lykans nails dig deeper and tear more. He coughs and sobs and brings his knees to his chest. Everything burns.

John hears rustling again and the pressure from his chest is lifted. He shivers as cold crests in his lungs but the tears in his skin burn. With great effort he sees the lykan being chased off by two wolves. He looks for Brian’s dark coat. Something shoves him over and he gurgles a scream.

He forces his eyes open and he sees a large golden wolf, with blue eyes – gold eyes? He wants Brian. Where’s Roger? Where is Brian? He hears two sets of footsteps and tilts his head to see the other two wolves staring at him. The beast must have been run off.

He tries to watch the two wolves, but the ground feels like it’s tilting underneath him and their forms sway and spin and he closes his eyes and tries to fight down nausea. John’s head is nudged, and he groans and opens his eyes again, only to be met with breasts. He looks up and sees hair.

Brian doesn’t have breasts.

“Hey, you,” the woman slaps his chest, “hey.”

He groans and tries to raise his hand to bat them away, but his arm doesn’t want to raise but he feels the burn in his shoulder and he stops trying to move it.

“Don’t fall asleep.”

John gurgles and furrows his brow and opens his mouth. He coughs and moans as the burn spreads out leaving his fingers tingling.

“Hey, don’t pass out,” the woman says, “ah.”

His head slumps. Something jabs into one of the cuts and he screams arching up and away from the sensation. The pain pushes the foggy dizziness away and he is back to staring into gold eyes. He suspects the woman would be pretty, her hair is a dark blonde but her face is twisted into a strange muzzle protrusion. That explains why her voice is so rough.

Brian has never spoken when he is half shifted. He frowns, he hasn’t seen Brian’s half shifted, only partial with longer nails and sharper fangs or full. John looks down to where the burn is radiating into a chill. The woman’s claw is digging into the wound on his shoulder. She presses and he screams.

“You’re going to die,” she says mildly, “artery. No hospital can get to you in time.”

John looks down at his shoulder. He hadn’t thought that wounds were that deep. He is going to die here and Brian is going to find him cold and lifeless because of his bond or whatever. He sobs. The woman digs her nail in.

“Pay attention _tyrarnnir_ _,”_ John looks up.

He doesn’t understand this woman or why she is helping. Why not let him die?

“Your mate, can he feel you?”

John shrugs, he thinks that Brian can. The woman turns around and her words are muffled and the other two lykans take off into the woods. She turns back to him.

“Permit me,” she says, then lifts her head and sniffs, “he comes, and he will lose you.”

His head sags forward, his chin almost touching his sternum, the pain becoming nothing more than a mild annoyance. The lykan grabs his jaw and forces his head upward and back. He can feel it pop but it is muddy.

“ _Tyrarnnir_ permit me!”

He looks at her. The words have some meaning, he feels as though he read them in a child’s book. Now that he isn’t in pain, everything is starting to feel warm and comfortable and he wants to sink into that feeling.

“Permit me to bite you so that he does not lose you,” she says, “he comes. Unfocused in flight. After you.”

John can make the connection that lykans and bites mean _something_ , but the ground feels like a down comforter and he can’t bring himself to care what the answer is. If only Brian were here to lay with him. Oh! And Roger. He’d apologize and then Roger would apologize, and everything would be good again.

What is it about lykans and bites? This woman and the wolves saved him so they wouldn’t hurt him. They’re worried about his mate. His mate is Brian? What would biting do?

“Allow me to save your life,” she growls.

“Okay.”

There is a dull sensation of something breaking the flesh of his arm. For points of pressure dig in further than the rest. He tries to pull his arm away, only to be stopped by the grip. It feels like something is crawling under his skin. Something old. John tries to pull away but whatever it is starting to move faster.

Cool water pulls from his heart and pushes at the sensation from his arm. It feels like a bolt of electricity as the two meet and it overwhelms his body. The snow feels like jagged rocks and his body feels like he full of spiders trying to break through his skin.

Now the pressure from his arm vanishes. He forces his eyes open a sliver to see the woman shifting again and rushing away.

He must be past saving now.

* * *

John wakes up feeling like he has been napping in the sun under a duvet. Well rested and far too warm. He pushes the covers down, only for his hands to grasp at nothing. Instead, he tries to push away whichever one of his partners – probably Brian – and his hands come away with nothing.

And there is nothing at his back so he can’t explain the loud breathing that seems to be rattling around the room. John pushes himself up, rubbing his palms against his eyes. He breathes in deeply and gags at the scent of dog.

The bed creaks. John forces his eyes open only to be greeted with the curly fur that he knows is Brian. He feels something run up his spine and he shakes his head. Brian gently moves forward nosing at his face. John curls his fingers in his chest fur.

“Bri?” He whispers. His voice is hoarse and sounds louder in his head.

Brian whines and pulls away, pawing at a spot on his arm. John looks down and notices a faint scar. He rubs his thumb against it, noting the indents. Teeth. A bitemark.

“So it happened?”

There is banging on the door. Brian jumps up and lets out a long rumbling growl. John pulls his hand back to his chest. Instead, he looks around the room. Nothing here is familiar, its stuffy like wet wood and the smell is getting to his head. Sniffing harder he can smell blood and the overwhelming smell of sweet flowers.

“Brian please,” he begs.

Brian growls at the door again before hopping off the bed with an ungraceful landing. He feels Brian’s hesitation break, which makes him sit up straighter, because since they mated he was aware of Brian but this is – John shakes his head.

He watches as the fur slowly turns to skin and gags when he hears the bones and tissues changing. John covers his head and tries to block out the noise. It doesn’t work and he tries to focus on his heartbeat.

Hands touch his face and he growls and pushes it away from him. John grabs his throat, the growl was exactly like –

“I’m so sorry.”

“No, Brian I –”

More pounding on the door.

“Brian, let me in!”

That is Roger’s voice. John glances at the door which seems to be rattling with each pounding knock at the door. He looks at Brian who is pulling his head back to his shoulders and lets a quiet whine go.

“Brian, what’s going on?” John asks again, “where are we?”

He stands, nearly knocking himself over with the grace that he moves with, his body feels stronger, and he uses Brian’s biceps to steady himself.

“Brian.”

Finally, hazel eyes snap to his.

“John, I’m sorry.”

“Breathe,” John says, “just focus on breathing.”

Brian takes in a large gulp of air that hurts his ears.

_“That’s John talking?”_

_“John is talking?”_

_“I don’t get it. I thought he was injured?”_

_“Maybe not badly?”_

John looks to the door and so does Brian. He looks back with a frown.

“I’m sorry,” Brian repeats.

“Where are we?”

“Jim’s house.”

He frowns, trying to remember anyone named Jim that Brian would trust enough. John had figured the only people Brian trusted like that was the band.

“Okay, we’re safe?”

Brian nods once.

“And Freddie and Roger are here?”

Again another nod.

John carefully pushes back Brain’s curls and then laughs at himself. These past twelve hours should be the one making him freak out and not his mate.

“Let them in, love.”

“Don’t call me that until I tell you what happened.”

“Brian…”

Something snaps between them.

Brian huffs and pushes away from him and unchains the door, which immediately flies open with Roger nearly falling over. Freddie is staring wide-eyed in the hallway. John feels a flare of fear and anger from Brian.

John opens his mouth and Brian turns to storm out, but John moves faster than Brian and grabs his arm. Roger has picked himself up and is standing in front of the doorway with his mouth open. He is looking at Brian with a strange face.

“John!” Roger says, reaching out to grab him.

He backs away from Roger, not liking the hostile body language. John frowns and narrows his eyes. Roger is leaning forward, but his back is straight and his chest is open. It’s no different than how John has seen Roger argue a hundred times before but now he understands the meaning behind stance.

Roger pulls his hand bad and tucks it in his pockets, “what’s going on?”

John opens his mouth but Brian cuts him off.

“I had to turn you, John.”

“You bit him?” Roger shouts.

John raises his hands to his ears to protect them from the noise. That seems to be enough for Roger who marches into the room and invades Brian’s space. Brian does not raise his shoulders but tilts his head back and his eyes stay towards the floor.

“Brian, you turned John? You – you! Why would you?”

“I had to,” Brian repeats, “I did it to save his life.”

“Forced? Brian, I thought you were better than that! You – you!”

“ _I know,”_ Brian’s voice breaks, “but I couldn’t let him die. But I gave him a fate worse than death.”

Roger bares his teeth. John doesn’t know how he does it, but he manages to get between Roger and Brian before anything escalates. Freddie rushes in and grabs Roger’s arm and pulls him close to his body. Brian folds over, and John imagines that his tail would be between his legs if he were still in his wolf form. Roger blows out a long breath and has his eyes closed.

“I’m right here, you know,” John says the familiar line, “Brian, Roger please listen to me.”

His head hurts and he can feel Brian’s guilt digging into his ribs sharply. John takes a deep breath and waits for a second when neither seems keen on continuing the argument he let out the breath.

“I’m sorry,” Roger blurts.

_What?_

“If I hadn’t… if I hadn’t been so overprotective you would have never left the mansion, all of this could have been avoided. I’m so sorry John.”

“Let me talk!” He says.

Brian and Roger both jump at the volume and Freddie is watching him warily. Something in his head nudges forward, it feels primal. Now that he is sure that he has the floor John sucks in a deep breath.

“I remember what happened to me in the forest,” John says, “and you’re both wrong.”

It feels like a dream, but he knows that it's much closer to the truth than what both of his mates have come up within their heads. He wants to spare Brian the guilt and Roger the anger, and he knows that he’s missing something big in lykan culture with this.

“A lone lykan attacked me,” John begins.

He feels he claws digging into his shoulder and that muscle ripping in his back.

“And they injured me, badly.”

Brian whimpers but Roger is frowning deeply but the aggression has seeped out of his posture. Freddie has loosened his grips too.

“And I was going to die.”

Roger flinches. Strangely Brian keeps looking at the ground before speaking.

“I know,” Brian whispers, “I was selfish.”

John can feel the storm of Brian’s emotions, but he doesn’t know how to traverse it. A loud cracking noise startles both, but he sees that Roger’s grip has started to pull the door frame away from the wall. He is blinded by the surge of emotions from Brian before he moves and pushes both Freddie and Roger out of the way and disappears down the hallway.

“Brian!” John shouts, “Brian wait.”

He runs to the door and sniffs. Brian’s scent his heavy and tinged with something bitter.

“Brian you didn’t turn me!” John yells down the hallway. He knows Brian can hear him, “it was a different lykan, she offered!”

For a moment he waits for Brian to return to the room, but no such luck. John turns back to Roger who has his mouth open and is looking at the doorframe and then back to John.

“Wait? Brian didn’t bite you?”  
“I don’t think so… or if he did he’s not the reason I’m a lykan, it was a different one.”

Freddie clears his throat, “remember the tracks we found? We knew there was more than one.”

“I’m not lying!” John drops back to the bed, “why would I lie about this?”

Roger bites his bottom lip, “I’m sorry John. I should have – I shouldn’t have been… like that to Brian.”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” John shakes his head, “I know why you would have thought that, but even if he had, it would have been to save my life. Being a lykan and alive is better than being human and dead.”

“To me, it is,” Roger crouches down, “because I love you far too much to lose you, but things are different for you now.”

“They aren’t!”

Roger presses kisses to his knuckles.

“I’m still John. I still love you and Brian. I still want to make music with you, Freddie. That hasn’t changed.”

“I know, love,” Roger says softly, “you aren’t different to me, but that’s not how the rest of the world is going to see it.”

He stares at Roger, his mouth dropping open. _No, that isn’t –_

“I’m going to go apologize to Brian, and bring him back here, so you can tell him.”

Roger kisses him once on the temple and John inhales the ashy scent and relaxes slightly before Roger pulls away. He gets one last smile before Roger disappears out of the door and John feels something heavy sit in his stomach. He looks up at Freddie who quickly wraps him in a hug.

“John, are you okay?”

He smiles bitterly, “I don’t know, Fred. I don’t know what’s happening.”

Freddie pulls him against his chest. John listens to the musical heartbeat, and now he understands why Brian likes listening to there’s so much. He sniffs at the sweet flower scent wafting from Freddie.

“Brian is acting so weird, why would he run off like that?”

“Because to him, this is his worst fear. He spent so long being careful to not turn you or to not injure Roger, and now he had to.”

John whimpers, “it felt like Brian regretted turning me! When he wasn’t the one to turn me.”

Freddie’s hand moves through his hair slowly. John closes his eyes as Freddie slowly untangles the knots and smooths out the frizz.

“And Roger treats me like I don’t know how life is going to be. I know how lykans are treated!”

“But you don’t,” Freddie says, “you know it from an outside perspective. You’re closer than most because you love a lykan, but you’ve never been forced to wear something or denied service someplace or even been given nasty looks on the street.”

John frowns.

“It’s going to be different,” Freddie says, “and Brian is afraid of you being treated like he has his entire life.”

“So he regrets turning me?”

“Yes, but don’t think that he regrets that it kept you alive.”

John wants to find Brian and explain to him that it was not him that turned and that it was his choice. He knows that much; he knows that he wanted to live. Now all he wants is Roger to convince Brian to come home.

“Say, would it be terribly rude of me to hit on the man giving us shelter?” Freddie hums.

“I suppose only if it gets us kicked out,” John replies with a tiny laugh, nosing against Freddie’s throat.

He stops himself, glancing at Freddie’s brown eyes.

“There’s no point in denying it. Brian would have suppressed it years ago if he could.”

John winces and then pushes the thought away, there is nothing he can do about it. They’ve tried for years to get Brian to embrace that part of himself and he wonders how much damage he’s done to it.

“So is the man who is giving us shelter named Jim by any chance?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. Things didn't exactly get fixed. Hm.
> 
> As always, leave your thoughts and comments below or come talk to me on Tumblr!

**Author's Note:**

> So, that was fun.
> 
> As always. Leave your thoughts and comments below or come talk to me on tumblr!!
> 
> Oh! And Jim's here!


End file.
